


The Champion

by OzQueen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Imprisonment, Large Cock, M/M, No Lube, Pre-Canon, Rape as Powerplay, Rape to cause humiliation/loss of status, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: The arena is empty on the other side of the force-field. Shiro doesn't care what he might have to face out there. He can escape it again and again, but it only means Sendak will be waiting for him once it's over.





	The Champion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warpropti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warpropti/gifts).



> A couple of things:
> 
> \- Heed the tags/warnings please!  
> \- This is set pre-canon, so at the start of the fic Sendak looks a little different to how he looks when we meet him in VLD. That's intentional. :)  
>   
> 

* * *

Shiro kneels on the floor with his hands secured behind his back, and thinks back to one of his final briefings at the Garrison. In particular, Commander Iverson's dry monologue on alien contact, which he had recited from a confidential file with little inflection in his voice, like he had not wanted to entertain any such fantasy.

 _In the unlikely event of alien contact_ , he had said, _do not invoke a chase or a situation which can be relegated to predator versus victim. You may initially be seen as a source of food, if not a threat which needs to be destroyed. Assume hostility; do not encourage it. If the alien appears sentient, make an effort to communicate._

Shiro huffs a short breath through his nose and looks around the room. "Assume hostility," he says. "Check."

His bonds are made of some kind of purple electrical field or energy. It hums against his skin and slowly numbs him. From the short time he's spent here, all he's learned is that it responds automatically to the touch of the guards handling him. There is no way for him to turn it off or escape it, and it's a waste of precious energy to try.

When the door opens, it is not the sentry guards he has come to expect. He can't assume what the creature underneath looks like — it is dressed in a long, dark cloak trimmed in gold. He can see strands of silver hair and a purple, pointed chin.

"Where are my friends?" he asks. He will ask, and ask and ask and ask until they answer him.

There's the sound of a long, deep inhale. Shiro thinks nervously of childhood fairytales, and dragons drawing breath before bearing fire down upon the hero.

The silence stretches on, and Shiro resists the urge to tug against the cuffs holding him. "What do you want?" he asks finally.

A soft laugh answers him. "You are weak."

Shiro doesn't know what to say to that. _Do not encourage hostility; make an effort to communicate_ are the only instructions he has, and they are laughably inadequate. So he repeats his first question again, hoping for an answer. "Where are my friends?"

"What do you know of Voltron?" The creature steps closer, and Shiro can see more of it now — purple fingers inside the dark shadows of the draping cloak, all of them pointed with long claws. The smile shows fanged teeth, too many teeth, crowded and shining and white.

"I know nothing of Voltron," he repeats for what seems the hundredth time, clenching his fists. "We were on a mission to collect ice from Kerberos."

"Ice," the voice says, and Shiro feels it like cold water down his spine. "For what purpose?"

"Please," Shiro says desperately, trying to sound reasonable, "we don't know anything. Please let us go. We were on a peaceful mission; we don't know anything of your people or your war."

"Then tell me why I should keep you alive."

He looks up in alarm. "Where are my friends?" he asks. "Tell me!"

His question is ignored again. A hand, eerily human, more human than any of the others he's seen so far, catches his chin and forces his head back.

He gazes up into eyes which glow yellow under the hood of the cloak. He can see the hard angles of a purple face, marked with red lines, and an expression with no indications of kindness or mercy. He thinks maybe it's female, but it's hard to be sure.

He resists the urge to pull himself out of her grip. His heart hammers hard in his chest and the urge to fight his way out is crawling hot in every nerve.

"Let us go," he says, and the creature's thumb presses hard against his jaw, a claw needling at his skin. A warning to be silent.

"The truth will come eventually," the creature says. It lets him go, but doesn't step back. "I can sense Quintessance within you."

"I don't even know what that is!" Shiro says. "I'm trying to cooperate here but you're not listening, and —"

"You will be relegated to the arena."

He stops short. "What arena?"

"You will prove one way or the other if you are peaceful. You and the younger."

Terror rushes through him from head to toe. _They're going to make me kill Matt._

"Please —"

"You will fight, or die." The instruction leaves no ambiguity.

"I'm a pilot," Shiro says desperately. "Not a warrior."

The alien's laugh is amused. "We shall see what time makes of you, Earthling."

 

* * *

 

Shiro can hear undulating waves of noise, in and out, up and down. It doesn't sound like an engine, but he can't place his finger on what it might be. He tilts his head and tries to pinpoint it as he's marched through another endless corridor, sentries gripping his arms tightly.

He's tired. He's not slept more than a few hours since being brought aboard, and he still has no idea where Matt and Sam are.

They've stopped questioning him about Voltron, but that's only left him with more uncertainty. If they're no longer concerned that he knows something, what are their plans for him?

His captors stop and uncuff him, before he's thrown through a door with no warning or ceremony. He scrambles to his feet as fast as he can, eyes adjusting to the darkness. A red wall shimmers at the end, silhouetting a number of figures but casting no light.

Eyes look back at him, glowing faintly. The noise is louder, and he recognizes it now: it's a crowd of thousands, all cheering and jeering at whatever they're witness to on the other side of that electric curtain.

His breath catches in his throat. _You will be relegated to the arena._

"Shiro?" The voice is hesitant. A figure emerges from the shadows.

"Matt." Shiro breathes a sigh of relief and reaches for him, clasping his shoulder tightly. "Where's your dad?"

"I don't know." Matt gestures, and Shiro makes out the other figures in the small room, eyes still glowing in the dark.

Some of them have too many eyes. Some of them not enough.

"Shiro," Matt whispers, "we have to get out of here. They're taking people out there and making them fight, and if you don't win, you don't come back…" His eyes are wide.

He looks okay; Shiro can't see any cuts or bruises on him, and he's not indicating any injury. He just looks scared.

"It'll be okay," Shiro says, somehow unable to say anything else. It's such a ridiculous promise to make. Nothing about this is okay. He looks around, still startled and amazed by the alien faces staring back at him.

"Can anyone understand me?" he asks helplessly.

"Yes." The voice is low and rough. Two glowing eyes blink at him.

The questions spill out of him. "Where are we? What's going on? What is Voltron?" And, the most important question, "Where is my lead scientist?"

The alien looks weary. It shifts its gaze to Matt, and then back to Shiro. "If your friend is not in the arena, he will have been taken to the camps to assist there."

"What camps? Assist with what?" Shiro asks.

Matt interrupts. "Will they hurt him?"

"It is hard to say," the alien says. "If you are not strong enough or fast enough to fight, you are put to work."

Shiro's fingers tighten a little on Matt's shoulder. "They're going to make us fight?"

"Yes." The eyes blink at him. "The witch has been working with the last champion. It will be more powerful than before. It is more powerful each time."

"Champion?" Matt's voice quivers. Shiro can feel him trembling.

"Myzax." The voice is resigned. "Slaughter awaits us."

Matt takes a step back, bumping up against Shiro. "But…"

"It's okay," Shiro assures him, squeezing his shoulder. "Listen to me, Matt."

Matt blinks back at him in terror. "Mom and Katie will never know what happened to us," he says, panicked. "I'm never going to see my family again, I'm —" He cuts himself off as the red curtain of light rises.

Guards stand at the entrance to the arena. The crowd is at fever pitch, the noise is overwhelming and the air spilling down into the cell is hot and rich with adrenaline and a sour scent that turns Shiro's stomach.

They point at Matt, and then everything is a blur.

 

* * *

 

When it's done — when it's finally over — Shiro can barely stand. He can't tell how long it's been, but it feels like hours. He's grazed and dirty and he has a painful burn on his shoulder, but it's over. He watches the robot go dark, the purple light fading to nothing.

The air seems to shake with either anger or applause — he can't tell if the crowd is elated or furious.

 _It was just a machine_ , he thinks in relief. It doesn't feel like he's killed anybody. It was a thing of metal and electricity, and if he hadn't shut it down it would have ended him.

He lets the guards take him away without argument or resistance. He's stumbling over his own feet, trembling and aching and relieved that nothing else was sent out to meet him and try to kill him. No machines or robots, no aliens. No Matt.

He tucks the idea of a Holt reunion somewhere down inside his chest, and lets it warm him from the inside out.

He doesn't know where he's expecting to be taken, but he's surprised when he's shown back to his cell.

"My shoulder…" he says, but the door slides neatly shut, and he's left in the shadows, still clutching his arm, blood and sweat drying tight on his skin.

"Our new Champion."

He jumps a mile and turns around, taking a step back when two yellow eyes blink back at him. All he can see is a shadow — an outline of pointed ears, the gleam of fanged teeth. The creature is enormous, towering over him.

Shiro stands his ground. "Who are you?"

"Myzax has been Champion for quite some time," the voice says. "Haggar will be most upset." The teeth shine at him, like the idea of someone else's misery amuses them.

"Who are you?" Shiro asks again.

"Commander Sendak," says the voice. "And you will show me proper courtesy by kneeling, Earthling."

Shiro hesitates, but only for a moment. He's exhausted, and his arm hurts, and his cell is too small a space to have any hope of escaping someone so large.

Shiro sinks to his knees.

Sendak laughs. "You are a pathetic creature," he says, stepping closer. "And yet a surprising one. I will be watching you closely."

"Just let me go home," Shiro says helplessly, looking up at the alien in front of him. He towers over him, and Shiro feels more vulnerable here than he did in the arena. At least in the arena he was armed with something.

He's so tired.

Sendak's large hand catches him under the chin and forces his head back. "Perhaps I have underestimated your people," he says. "Perhaps there is more intelligence to you than I thought."

Shiro leans back, trying to evade his grip, but Sendak follows, leaning over him closely, eyes glowing. He smells of the same sour smell that pervaded the arena, and Shiro can feel his body heat radiating from him.

"I have nothing you want," Shiro says. "Just let me and my friends go."

Sendak shoves him without warning, and Shiro hits the floor hard, sprawled on his back. His shoulder rings with pain, and he tries to get up, but he's too slow. His previous fight has drained him already; he has nothing left for a second.

Sendak grabs one of his ankles and drags him into the middle of the small room. His large hands grasp firmly, and Shiro kicks out at him with strength drawn from a basic survival instinct, deeply rooted.

Sendak laughs, and one large finger hooks into the front of Shiro's tunic and pulls. It tears easily.

"Still trying to fight?" Sendak asks, as Shiro tries to kick him again. He knocks his fist back easily, wraps his hand around Shiro's throat and presses him against the floor.

Shiro is landing blows which would bruise someone his size, but Sendak hardly seems to notice. His other hand reaches between Shiro's thighs.

"Did you feel victorious when you defeated Myzax, Earthling?" Sendak asks. A thick finger probes forth and Shiro fights the urge to scream. It's too big; too large and dry and rough. "Did you think yourself a hero when he fell?"

Shiro grits his teeth. He's stopped breathing, everything within him is locked still and tight in the hope that maybe by sheer force of will he can stop this from happening. Sweat beads on his skin.

"You are small and weak," Sendak growls, and Shiro feels the finger forcing its way deeper inside him. Pain runs through his entire body. He bucks, trying to dislodge Sendak; trying to squirm away, but the hand around his throat only tightens, pinning him to the floor.

"The crowd wished to see you torn limb from limb," Sendak says, twisting his finger.

Shiro croaks and kicks his legs desperately, trying to twist away.

"They are unhappy that their Champion was defeated," Sendak says. He curls his finger and Shiro jerks and gives a moan of despair. "Perhaps we should allow them to watch this." He smiles with pointed teeth. "Perhaps we should allow them to sample the new Champion themselves. You may grow to enjoy it."

The finger thrusts back and forth. It slides a little easier but the pain isn't any less.

He's still holding his breath, though he doesn't know why. It seems easier to bear when he locks himself down. He stares at the ceiling of his cell and gasps in a breath that sounds like a sob, even when it isn't, _it isn't_.

Sendak stinks of sourness and heat and fur, and Shiro can feel his breath on his face and see his teeth and his eyes gleaming at him in the dark.

The finger finally slides out of him, and the hand around his throat squeezes him again before he's released. He coughs and rolls onto his side, curling his legs up. The footsteps of two sentries can be heard in the corridor, and the door slides open.

Sendak stands to leave. "I hope you continue to win," he says, silhouetted in the doorway to Shiro's cell. "I will be watching you, Champion."

 

* * *

 

The only way to tell the passing of time is by the footsteps of the sentries passing by. Shiro counts the seconds and the minutes between them, straining his ears and pressing against the wall to try and listen for the patrols further away.

They are regular as clockwork, but it doesn't help at all with Shiro's sense of time.

He tries not to think about Sendak.

It's easier than he thought it would be, but maybe that's only because there are so many other things to think about. He sits back against the wall in his cell and tries to come up with answers for some of his questions.

_Where did they take Sam? Is Matt with him now? Did the Garrison know we might find aliens? How is it can I understand these creatures, and how is it they understand me? What is Voltron?_

Eventually, they come for him again.

 

* * *

 

He's behind the red curtain of light again, but alone this time. The crowd is a low rumble of curiosity and excitement above him.

His hands are shaking, but he tells himself it will be okay. _You defeated Myzax and he'd been Champion for weeks_ , he reminds himself. _You can take whatever they throw at you._

He tries not to think about whether or not Sendak will be watching, and what might happen if he does win.

They summon him into the arena. It's enormous — bigger than he remembers. Far across the other side, he can see a small figure.

Shiro's heart thuds in his ears, and he approaches slowly. The other figure doesn't move. As Shiro gets closer he can see it quivering. It's smaller than he is — about one third his height, and slightly translucent. It has a wide mouth and too many eyes for Shiro to count. They all shine and blink at him in unison.

The crowd is roaring; chanting something Shiro can't understand. He knows what they want.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Can you understand me?"

The creature bares its teeth in warning, still quivering. It has more teeth than it has eyes. Rows and rows of gray teeth all dripping with slime.

"I don't want to hurt you," Shiro says. "We don't have to fight just because they say we do. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I'm —"

The creature launches itself at him. Shiro can't tell if it's desperation or aggression.

"Wait!" he shouts. He rolls to the side, and the crowd rises up in waves, eager for blood. The creature doubles back and Shiro bolts away from it, uneasy about the slime dripping from its teeth, unsure if a bite from this tiny thing would be enough to kill him.

He turns to face it again, holding his hands out. "Wait," he says desperately. "Wait, please… I don't want to hurt you."

A sword is thrown between them, and the creature lunges for it, grappling for it with stubby arms, chuckling and clicking to itself in delight.

This isn't a champion the witch has been working on. This isn't the terrifying life-and-death battle Shiro faced the first time. This is a game nobody can win.

If he refuses to fight, or if he loses to the creature in front of him, Matt and Sam will be lost forever. Shiro thinks about Colleen and Katie Holt, back on Earth, wondering where the other half of their family is, and he can't bring himself to give up.

If he kills the creature… Is he killing another prisoner? Someone else with a family?

The gate slides open again, and an identical creature runs out to join the first, clicking and snapping its teeth. They run around each other in circles a couple of times, and then approach Shiro.

"Please," he says desperately. "Please, we don't have to do this." He backs away again, trying to talk to them, trying to make them understand. The first one drags the sword behind it, chomping and drooling as it follows Shiro.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Shiro says. "We'll just…" He looks up as the gate opens again, and a third creature runs out — and a fourth.

His heart sinks. They're going to outnumber him. He can't outrun them all; he can't reason with them; he can't… He eyes the sword in the first creature's hand.

The gate opens again.

"Please understand me," he says. "I don't want to do this…"

They gnash their teeth at him and approach.

 

* * *

 

Shiro watches the alien slime run past his feet into the drain, glowing eerily in the light cast by the purple cuffs around his wrists.

He tips his head back and lets the water run through his hair. He cracks his eyes open for a moment and notes the sentry guards still standing there, watching him. He doesn't know how much longer he's got here, but it's the first shower he's had since leaving Earth, and cold water isn't enough to stop him from feeling some relief.

Even with his eyes closed, he can sense the shadow falling over him.

He opens his eyes, and Sendak smiles down at him. "You are hardly worthy of the title of Champion," he says. "Today you proved your cowardice."

Shiro flexes his fingers, but the cuffs hold firm, locked at the small of his back. He glances past Sendak but the sentries are gone. They are alone.

Shiro could fight him this time. He doesn't have the same stripped-down, bare-boned exhaustion he had after he fought Myzax. This fight was longer, but only because Shiro had tried to delay the inevitable. It hadn't been a fair fight, and in the end he had only picked up a sword because he knew that delaying the inevitable was going to cause more deaths. They were sending out more and more creatures the longer he tried to avoid hurting them.

But it hadn't been a battle. It had been slaughter; it had been easy.

He had energy left to fight Sendak, if he needed to.

"Running away from a creature half your size." Sendak tips his head back to laugh. It echoes through the room and his pointed ears flick with amusement. "I told the witch to give you another competitor with strength and size. She will not disobey me again." He steps closer, and Shiro forces himself not to shrink back against the wall.

"Still," Sendak says, eyes narrowed. "Despite your initial foolishness, you ran your blade through them eventually."

"What choice did I have?" Shiro asks. He clenches his jaw, trying not to shiver under the cold water still pouring over his shoulders.

"None." Sendak's tongue licks around his teeth with satisfaction. "I am here to remind you, Champion. Even in victory, you have gained nothing."

His hand reaches for him, but Shiro ducks — he tries to get past him, but with his hands cuffed he's too slow and off-balance. Sendak kicks his legs out from under him, and Shiro lands hard on his back and his bound arms. The wind is knocked out of him and the running water is loud in his ears.

Sendak wraps a hand around his thigh and flips him over. Shiro kicks him and wriggles forward, but Sendak only laughs and grabs his hips, dragging him back. He kneels behind him, the water soaking into his fur and down the side of his uniform.

Shiro clenches his fists and gasps in a breath. He's face-down by the drain; water bubbles past his mouth. _Just get through it,_ he tells himself, squeezing his eyes closed. _It'll be okay. It'll be over soon, just get through it, don't react, don't show him that it hurts, don't show him anything._

Sendak's finger probes at him again, pushing into him hard. Shiro grits his teeth and tries to relax; tries to make it easier. He sucks in half a mouthful of water and coughs, and Sendak bruises his hip pulling him closer.

Something hot and hard and slick lies against the back of Shiro's thigh. He bucks forward, tries to get his foot back far enough to kick Sendak away, but Sendak only grabs the cuffs holding Shiro's wrists and wrenches them up, forcing Shiro's face down to the floor. His finger hooks at him from the inside and tugs, and Shiro yelps and lifts his hips.

Sendak laughs and leans over him. "Would you still be running in circles in the arena if a second or third had not been sent out to fight you, Champion?" he asks. He rocks his hips up against Shiro's and the hot, slick hardness touches his skin again, dragging wetly. "Would you still be trying to avoid the inevitable?"

Shiro grits his teeth as something much wider than Sendak's finger starts pushing against him.

"Stop," he gasps, "I can't…"

"It's been a long time since a Champion untouched by Haggar won," Sendak says. There was a growl low in his voice, and he pulls Shiro back again, fingertips bruising him as he forces him to be still.

 _Just breathe_ , Shiro tells himself, but he can feel himself starting to panic; the pain is unbearable. He clenches hard but Sendak hardly seems to notice or care — he holds Shiro open with his thumbs and pushes forward slowly, his weight pressing him down into the floor.

Shiro sucks in another mouthful of water and chokes. Tears burn in his eyes. Sendak's erection is thick and hot, and it seems to squirm and shift inside him, burying itself of its own accord, pushing in, pulsing and dripping.

"She will no doubt make her improvements to you," Sendak says, lifting Shiro's cuffed hands again so he's pressed down to the floor, hips raised. "She will build you, piece by piece, to ensure you win again and again…"

Shiro sobs a breath and flexes his fingers helplessly.

Sendak inches in little by little until his hips are flush against Shiro's. Then, slowly, he draws back, dragging with thick friction and heat.

"Please, stop!" Shiro cries. He tries to pull away; tries to hasten it to an end, but Sendak is too strong. Too big. He holds onto him patiently, waiting for his struggles to end. Then he thrusts again, harder this time. Faster.

Shiro screams and curls in on himself as much as he can. He strains against the cuffs and watches the water running past him turn pink with his own blood.

"Perhaps I will suggest my own improvements," Sendak says, slightly breathless. He drags Shiro up against him, holding his hips as he fucks forward again, rough and hard. "There are so many things I could have done to you, Champion."

 

* * *

 

"I'm not going to fight," Shiro says to the sentry guards.

The arena is empty on the other side of the force-field. Shiro doesn't care what he might have to face out there. He can escape it again and again, but it only means Sendak will be waiting for him when it's over. Sendak, and his prison cell, and a million other things he doesn't want to think about.

They push him out into the arena, and the crowd roars in delight.

 

* * *

 

Sendak is waiting for him again, teeth showing. Since Shiro last saw him, one of his eyes has been replaced with an orange prosthetic. It shines brighter than his other eye, and Shiro can see his own reflection in it. He wonders if it's courtesy of the witch, and shivers as he wonders how much longer Sendak's threats to have him sent to her will remain threats only.

"You are getting sloppy, Champion," Sendak says.

Shiro doesn't answer him.

"Let me show you what happens when you decide fighting your best fight isn't a worthy cause anymore." Sendak's fingers tighten on the back of his neck, and he marches him forward.

He's taken to a control room of some kind. There's a big window, and all Shiro can see when he looks out of it is empty, black space. He stares at it helplessly, sick to his stomach. He remembers the months aboard his ship with Matt and Sam on the way to Kerberos, and the exhilaration and the wonder and the complexity of it all.

 _There are others out there,_ he'd thought then, staring out into the blackness with a strange philosophical certainty.

He hadn't thought it would be like this.

The ship is moving, though with nothing passing by the window, and no change in the constant humming and droning of the ship itself, Shiro hadn't noticed until the red curve of a planet comes into view.

His stomach lurches. He wonders if he's being taken off-ship. Is this where the Galra come from?

"You think you are fighting for your life alone," Sendak says. "You think your death in the arena will end with you."

Sweat is cold on Shiro's skin. He doesn't think that at all, but with alien blood still drying on his hands, he can't bring himself to start an argument. Matt and Sam are still out there and, if Shiro dies, nobody will ever know what happened to them.

"Your opponent today was weak, and beneath your skill." Sendak shows his teeth in a pleased sort of smile. "You showed him no mercy." He stands behind Shiro, one heavy hand on his shoulder, and Shiro can feel the warning in the fingers digging sharply into his skin.

Sendak gestures to the red planet coming into view alongside the ship. "His home planet," he says. "Full of the same weak disappointments."

"No," Shiro says suddenly, jerking under Sendak's grip as he realizes what's about to happen. "No, don't, don't —"

"Fire," Sendak orders.

He hears nothing, but there's a hard pulse in Shiro's chest, and something powerful reverberates through the ship. Before his eyes, the planet shatters, breaking apart into enormous chunks, dust and rock scattering in every direction. He expects to hear the planet's crumbs knocking against the side of the ship, but the terrible silence only stretches on and on.

"Another planet eliminated in our search for Voltron," Sendak says, clearly pleased. "The more I see of you, Champion, the more I think your people are worthy of guarding the Lions. Perhaps a visit to your home planet would prove beneficial."

Shiro feels sick, and furious, and helpless. He doesn't know what to do, or what to say. He doesn't know how he ended up here, with Matt and Sam and now his whole planet depending on him to keep them safe from a war he has no knowledge of.

The message is clear. Sendak is reminding him, again, that he has no real choices; that he has no power over his own future.

"We have nothing you want," he says. He watches the remnants of the red planet breaking into smaller and smaller pieces, drifting and crashing.

"We shall see," Sendak says, and his fingers press harder into Shiro's skin.

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
